


It Was That Smile

by LilRadRidingHood



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Project Freelancer, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilRadRidingHood/pseuds/LilRadRidingHood
Summary: Wash realizes Maine is much more than just a scary high-ranking agent.
Relationships: The Meta | Agent Maine/Agent Washington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	It Was That Smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luigifan11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luigifan11/gifts).



> I wrote this for the RvB Secret Santa gift exchange. Hope you enjoy the holidays!

They'd seen each other around before.

It was inevitable, even when they were in different units. With fewer than fifty freelancer agents sharing the Mother of Invention, Wash was bound to see the tall, white-armored soldier around from time to time. He'd seen the way Agent Maine fought during training exercises—strong, ruthless—and he'd seen his stoic face from across the mess hall. Maine didn't exactly seem like the approachable type.

That was all gathered from distant observance, though. Wash had never actually spoken to the man himself before.

That was about to change.

They were in between drills, and Wash figured he'd spend this short respite talking to his friends Ohio, Idaho, and Iowa. They'd come up with plenty of little ways to amuse themselves on breaks, given their lack of assignments. Agent Ohio was telling Wash and the others five things she'd do if she could fly, when suddenly she stopped and fixed her eyes on something behind them. Or some _one_.

"Single digit incoming," she breathed.

Wash turned around, and sure enough, there was Agent Maine, coming straight toward them with conviction. 

"Ah! Please don't kill us," Iowa cried.

Ohio whispered his name sharply through gritted teeth but didn't dare say anything else. Neither did any of the others. For a moment they all simply stared as Maine stood over them, his helmet tucked under his arm, with that same unreadable yet intimidating expression he always wore.

Wash was the first one to move, and he put himself between Maine and the others. "Hey, what do you want with my friends?" he demanded. He was proud of how steady he managed to keep his voice, given who he was talking to.

Maine raised his eyebrows slightly, giving Wash a quick glance before holding out a piece of paper in his hand. "I found this," he said. "Addressed to her.” He nodded toward Ohio, and Wash stepped aside to let her through.

Ohio looked down at the paper in confusion and started reading. "'Dear Vera, I've always lo-'"

Suddenly, Idaho snatched the paper out of Maine's hand. "Hey, we don't have to waste our time reading this," he said hastily. "I'm sure whoever wrote this wouldn't want Ohio reading an unfinished letter anyway." He chuckled nervously, and Ohio just blinked at him.

"Um… okay?" She looked up at Maine again. "Well, thanks anyway. And sorry we acted so weird before."

"Yeah," Wash said. "Sorry about that."

Maine looked into his eyes then, and Wash resisted the urge to crumple under his stare. Instead, he held the taller man's gaze, until eventually, Maine grunted and walked away.

—

The next time Maine and Wash spoke was outside the training room.

Wash took his helmet off as he walked out after an hour of running the training simulation, only to walk right into hard white armor. He stumbled backward and blinked, taking in the sight of the familiar soldier standing right in front of him.

_Agent Maine_.

After a few breaths, Wash realized he was also taking in the scent. Unlike Wash—who was a panting, sweating mess from training—Maine smelled like some sort of woodsy body wash. It made Washington wonder if he had just showered.

Then Maine raised an eyebrow, and Wash realized he was staring.

"Um, sorry," Wash said. "I didn't know anyone was waiting to use the training room."

But Maine shook his head. "I was just passing by. Got curious."

"Oh. Okay."

Wash glanced around the room, trying to ignore Maine's intense brown eyes. He wondered if they were always that intense. Not that it should've mattered. Part of him knew he should just go, before he made a fool of himself in front of such a high-ranking agent, but that wasn't enough to keep him from talking. 

"Sorry again, by the way," Wash blurted out. "I mean, about the other day. I guess I was sort of hostile for no reason."

Maine narrowed his eyes at the memory. "Your friends seemed scared."

"Yeah, I guess they- I mean, we all kinda were. It's nothing personal. It's just, you and everyone else with single-digit rankings—it's kinda intimidating, you know? Or, I guess not, since you've always been near the top. But, uh…" He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry for assuming the worst."

He started to lower his hand, but Maine caught his wrist, surprising Wash into finally meeting his eyes.

"You apologize too much," Maine said.

Wash probably would have inadvertently apologized again if he wasn't too stunned to speak.

Slowly, Maine let go of his arm, and Wash subconsciously placed his other hand over his now-free wrist. The white-armored man watched his hand move with concern.

"Did that hurt?" Maine asked. Wash was a bit taken aback by how much gentler his voice suddenly was. Still rough, but gentler.

"No," Wash said. "I'm fine."

"Good." Maine walked a few feet away, staring through the window into the training room. "It'd be a shame if you got hurt. You might be one of the best fighters here."

"I-I am?" Wash couldn't believe this conversation was really happening. Maine had to be messing with him. That had to be it. 

"You are."

But when Maine spoke and looked back into Wash's eyes, Wash _really_ wanted to believe him.

"Or at least the best with knives," Maine went on. "So don't be so intimidated by the top of the leaderboard. You'll join us up there soon enough."

Wash was still in denial. "Me? No, I- my friend Connie- I mean, CT- she's improving faster than I am. If anything, she'll be the next one to make it up there."

"Maybe." Maine's mouth curved into a small smile. "But you're the one I noticed."

It was that smile that got to Washington, as Maine walked away. The way it softened Maine's features and made him look like someone who might appreciate Wash for more than just his fighting ability—like for who he was, poorly timed clumsiness and cat loving and all.

It was that, or the fact that Maine believed in him. Either way, when Wash went to bed that night, he lay awake trying to think of ways to make Maine smile again.

—

The next morning, Wash did his best in the training drills as he would on any other day. The busy work was nice—didn't leave much room for thought. At lunch time, though, Wash was different. Ohio, Idaho, and Iowa were sitting at the table with him, but he barely registered what they were saying. He was more focused on a certain freelancer sitting at a different table across the mess hall.

Whatever it was Wash's friends were talking about, they stopped to greet Connie as she walked up to their table.

"Hey, guys." She sat down and nudged Wash, who looked as if he hadn't even noticed she was there. "Playing 'five things' again?"

"Huh?" Wash glanced at the others in confusion. "Oh, yeah. I guess we are."

Connie smirked. "Hey, Wash. Five things you like about Agent Maine."

"What? I wasn't- I mean, I don't-"

"Five things, Wash. Go."

"Okay, fine." Wash looked across the room at Maine again. "I like how he tried to help deliver a letter to Ohio once."

"One."

"I like the way he can surprise you with just a few words."

"Two."

"I like… his presence."

"Three."

"His eyes."

"Four."

"His smile."

For a while, no one at the table said anything. Then Wash tore his gaze away from Maine and looked at his friends. Ohio, Idaho, and Iowa all looked at him in surprise, but Connie wore a big, shit-eating grin.

"I knew it," she said. "Something happened with you and Maine."

Wash's eyes widened. "What? No! Nothing happened! We just talked. That's it."

"Agent Maine? Talked?"

"Well, he didn't say _much_ , but… he saw me in the training room. He said I was good."

"And…?"

"And… he smiled. It was nice. _He_ was nice." Wash groaned and buried his face in his arms. "I sound like I'm in high school."

"Aw, come on, Wash," Idaho said. "You're still allowed to be human. You can't help it if you feel things for someone you see every day."

"Yeah, like how I can't help it if I crash a Mongoose every now and then," Iowa chimed in.

Wash lifted his head. "You know what? You're right. I can't help it," he said. Wash looked up at the leaderboard—some form of it was visible from nearly every spot in the Mother of Invention—and determination stirred within him. "So I'm just gonna have to do what I can to prove him right."

—

And so Wash worked harder than ever. Not that he'd been slacking before, but it was refreshing to have a new source of motivation, however mysterious and intimidating that source was. After all, Wash didn't mind a bit of mystery, and Maine was somehow already far less intimidating than he had once seemed. Wash was happy with how far they'd come. And besides moving up in the leaderboard so they could be in the same unit, Wash had no other plans for them to get any closer.

Maine, on the other hand, was not as patient. He walked up to where Connie and Wash were standing in the locker room one day and said hello.

"Oh, hi," Wash said. "How's it going?"

It took a moment for Maine to respond. "You… did good today," he said.

"Um, thanks. You too."

They stood in silence for a few moments, with Connie looking between them in anticipation. Then, a few yards away, Carolina turned in their direction and walked over to stand next to Maine. "So, did you ask yet?" she said.

Wash looked at her in confusion. "Ask what?"

"Drinks," Maine said. "Tonight. With me, Carolina, and York. Wanna come?"

Wash glanced at Connie. "Well-"

"You can both come," Carolina said, smiling at the brown-armored girl.

Connie smiled back. "Well, I guess we're going then."

"Great. We can gather and make our way to a ship after dinner. I'll see you then."

Carolina and Maine walked away, and Maine looked back at Wash one last time over his shoulder before he left the room. Wash just wished that rounded white helmet was off. Maybe then he would've seen Maine smile again.

—

It turned out that Maine was right—Wash didn't need to be intimidated by the soldiers at the top of the leaderboard. Not necessarily because he was as good as them, but because they were _people_ , just like him. And listening to them talk while they were out for drinks at the bar, he was finally starting to realize that. 

"Oh man, I'm still sore from that training match this morning," York said as he stretched his arms. He turned to Carolina. "You never do go easy on me, do you?"

"Aw, quit your whining," Carolina said—though not without a smile on her face. "Going easy on you would just make you more cocky."

York grinned. "You know, you're probably right about that. At least I've still got my good looks to fuel my ego." 

A short noise escaped Maine, and they both turned to him.

"What?" York said.

Maine sat back. "Maybe good for someone with a baby face," he said.

"Wha- I don't have a baby face! Guys, do I have a baby face?"

Carolina laughed, Connie agreed, and Wash remained quiet. He simply took another sip of his drink and exchanged content smiles with Maine from across the table.

—

When the group walked out of the bar for the night, they stopped in their tracks to observe the car moving just in front of the establishment. It kept going forward and backwards again and again. They could see the driver and the person in the shotgun seat laughing through the windshield, probably both drunk. Suddenly, the car stopped its pattern of movement and went back even further. It stayed still for a moment before it charged forward—straight toward the group of freelancers.

"Oh shit," York said, and he dove out of the way. As did Connie and Maine. Carolina somersaulted to the side and landed gracefully on her feet.

Wash was the only one left standing there when the car made its way to the sidewalk. The vehicle rammed him hard into the wall behind him. Pieces of brick scattered into the air.

As soon as the dust settled, Maine wasted no time grabbing the front of the car and pushing it away from Wash.

"Wash, are you okay?" Connie said.

When Wash didn't respond right away, Maine growled and pushed the car even further. He tore the hood off, eliciting screams from the people inside.

Wash coughed a few times before he was able to speak again. "Easy there," he said. "You don't have to scare them. I'm fine."

Just then, someone came running out of the bar. "What the hell's going on here?" he demanded. He looked over the scene in horror. "I'm calling the cops," he said before heading back inside.

"Sounds like a good time to go," Carolina said. "Wash, can you move?"

He let out a strained groan as he tried to free himself. "Doesn't look like it."

"All right. Maine, get him out of there. The rest of us will be waiting on the ship."

Without further ado, Carolina, Connie, and York made their way toward the aircraft.

Wash sighed as Maine approached him. "Why do cars hate me?"

The corner of Maine's mouth twitched. He pulled at each of Wash's arms. "Does it feel like you're getting looser?" he asked.

Wash tried to move, but still couldn't. "Nope."

So Maine tried again, putting both hands around one arm and putting both feet against the wall. He pulled and pulled with all his might, but Wash's arm didn't budge. Maine set his feet back on the ground with a low, frustrated growl.

"Great. I'm stuck here, aren't I?" Wash said.

"There is… one thing I could try," Maine said delicately.

"Then what's stopping you?"

Maine looked away. "I have to try pulling near the center of gravity."

"The center of gravity? Wait." Suddenly Wash realized why Maine was so nervous. "You mean the codpiece?"

Maine shifted. "Is that okay?"

"Sure. We're, uh- we're adults here, right?"

"Right," Maine said slowly. He hesitantly placed his fingertips on Wash's codpiece, and though Wash couldn't feel his touch, he could already feel heat rising to his cheeks. He was glad he at least had his helmet on to cover his blushing.

Then Maine hooked his fingers around the edge of the codpiece, and with all his might, he pulled. Within seconds, Wash came flying out of the wall. He crashed into Maine, and they both fell onto the floor, with Wash lying on top. Wash laid his hands down and pushed himself up. Only then did he realize his hands were pressing down on Maine's broad shoulders. Maine himself was on the floor looking up at him.

"S-Sorry," Wash stammered. He tried to stand, but stumbled so he ended up straddling Maine's waist. "Sorry!"

That was when they heard footsteps approaching, and they both turned their heads to find a familiar tan-armored freelancer. "Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "Wash, I didn't know you had it in you."

"York! This isn't what it looks like," Wash said frantically.

York laughed. "Sure, pal. Now let's not keep our friends waiting. Carolina worries more than you'd think."

He offered his hand to help Wash up, followed by Maine, and they all left to join the others.

—

Maine was their designated driver.

On the way back home, Maine seemed to have no problem being alone in the cockpit, staying out of the conversation he could hear through the open doorway. Still, Wash figured he could use some company—and Wash just _really_ wanted to be near him again. So he stepped into the cockpit and closed the door behind him.

Maine immediately stood. He had his helmet on and an alert expression on his face. But when he saw Wash, his whole body relaxed.

"Washington," he said. He took slow steps toward Wash until they were within an arm's reach of each other.

Wash glanced past him at the ship's controls. "Sorry. I'm not distracting you, am I?"

Maine shook his head. "It's on autopilot."

"Oh. Right. Well, uh, I thought you could use some company, so…"

An awkward silence settled between them. And as Wash's mind was scrambling for something to say, Maine was the one to break it.

"Can I see your face?" he said.

Wash almost couldn't believe his ears.

"Sure," he managed to reply. His heart raced as Maine lifted his arms at a glacial speed and placed his hands on either side of Wash's helmet. When Maine removed it to uncover Wash's bewildered face, the taller man looked at Wash like he was the only other person in the world. He set the helmet aside and brushed his gloved fingers against Wash's cheek.

"I'm glad you came with us," Maine said softly, glancing down at Wash's lips.

"You are?"

Maine leaned closer and met Wash's eyes with that ever-intense gaze. "I am."

Then Maine finally closed the gap and kissed him.

It started out gentle, as if Maine was waiting for Wash to respond before doing more. But Wash was too stunned to react—too stunned to kiss back. At least, he was until Maine started to pull away, and realizing that this beautiful moment was about to end, Wash wasted no time in pulling him back. 

Wash wrapped his arms around Maine and brought his hand to the back of Maine's head as they deepened the kiss. Maine lifted Wash effortlessly and slammed his back against a wall. His fingers found Wash's codpiece again, but this time, his thumb brushed against the undersuit fabric right above it. Wash groaned against Maine's mouth.

By the time they pulled apart, their lungs were desperate for air, and the two men stood gasping, foreheads pressed together.

Wash tried to speak between breaths. "That was- You were- You're-"

But Maine placed two fingers over his lips. When he removed them, Wash smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry," he said.

Maine laughed. It was a low, rumbling sound, and already near and dear to Wash's heart.

"You apologize too much," Maine said. Then he once again indulged in kissing Wash on the lips.


End file.
